


When the Hunt Ends

by Endellion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Impala Sex, M/M, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endellion/pseuds/Endellion
Summary: Castiel isn't impressed with the risks Dean took on a hunt.





	When the Hunt Ends

Castiel growled, pushing Dean further into the back of the Impala. “You were reckless.” He almost snarled. Dean stripped his shirt off, making grabby hands for Cas.  
“It was a good plan.” He huffed, pulling his angel closer. Cas still looked like a thunderstorm, but his hands were on his trousers, yanking open the zip and shoving them and his boxers down to his thighs. Dean licked his lips, looking up at Cas from under his lashes.

“You could have been hurt.” Cas insisted, reaching for Dean’s jeans and snapping open the button. Dean helped push them down, baring his already plumping dick. He reached out and grasped Cas’ cock, stroking from root to tip and back again. It curved proudly towards Castiel’s belly and Dean lifted his body forward so he could lick at the slit and then around the head. Cas clenched his teeth at the sight, then pushed Dean back to lying down and climbed in after him.

Castiel leaned down to whisper in Dean’s ear. “I want to hurt you for being so careless with the one I love.” He fastened his teeth around Dean’s lobe and tugged before releasing it to kiss down Dean’s neck. He bit down, hard, and Dean jerked underneath him. Dean let out a needy groan, his dick twitching with need.  
“Please, Cas. Want you to punish me. Want you to make it hurt.” He hissed it out as though he wasn’t begging, as though need wasn’t pulsing beneath his skin and boiling his blood. He bared his throat further for Castiel’s teeth and tongue and lips. He knew he would have marks after and god, he should care but he just didn’t.

Dean stroked Castiel’s hard cock and swiped his thumb through the precome beading at the slit, spreading it down the shaft. He wanted that in him so badly. Castiel wouldn’t give him what he wanted, though. He always gave what he wanted, when he wanted. Dean would take what he was given. He lifted his head and kissed Dean. To start with it was hard, a clashing of mouths. Teeth tugged at lips and noses bumped. Then it changed.

Castiel slowed the kiss, turning it to gentleness. His mouth caressed, slid over Dean’s. His tongue soothed where teeth had pulled and nipped. Castiel slicked his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip and then the crease, making Dean open to him. His tongue tangled with Dean’s, slow and playful slides and wet gasps.

Where his hands had shoved and grabbed, now they were killing Dean with kindness. His fingers stroked over bared flesh like flower petals, something to be gentle with lest it bruise. Dean turned his face away, unable to take the sweetness in a way that the rough handling had not touched. Sudden tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“C’mon. Dammit, Cas, fuck me!” He insisted. He released Castiels’ cock, spreading his legs shamelessly as much as possible in the constrained space. Castiel bent his head and found one of Dean’s nipples, wrapping his tongue around a small bud and laving over it with soft flicks.  
“No.” He answered. He reached down and pulled one of Dean’s legs over his hip to fit better in between his legs. “I am not going to fuck you. I am going to love you. Like always.” His voice had gone low, still rough but more like velvet than steel.

He kissed the perked bud against his mouth and moved his head to the neglected nipple. One finger slid below Dean’s hard cock and rubbed over his hole. It slid in slowly, the tight heat of Dean’s body initially trying to push it out. Castiel rubbed and thrust his finger in and out with patience. “Let me in, baby.” He said. Dean blew out a breath, purposely forcing his body to relax. The finger moved in and out easier, testament to Dean’s efforts.

Castiel returned to Dean’s lips, using his free hand to turn Dean’s face to his. His thumb swiped away a salty tear and then his lips followed, pressing sweetly to the corners of Dean’s eyes and along his cheeks and nose. He found Dean’s mouth with his and kissed him slowly. Like time was stopped, or insignificant, or didn’t exist at all.

His cock replaced his finger after an interminable time. Dean could have been breathing Castiel in for a minute or a year. It didn’t matter. It hurt so much more when Castiel wouldn’t use him. When instead the angel made every touch scream devotion. When the pushing in of Castiel’s cock was more like finding home than taking a hit. Castiel loved him like he was a butterfly so close to flying away. Like he was a star that had left nothing but light. Like Dean was worth cherishing, simply because he was Dean.

Their bodies joined and gone was the urgency, the demands to hurt. There were no words. For every tear that slipped to where Castiel’s lips brushed against Dean’s there was a slow thrust. There was heat and sweat and a cramp in Dean’s thigh and the not-enough-too-perfect rub of Dean’s cock against Castiel’s soft, flat stomach.

Dean almost begged Castiel not to, when he wrapped a hand around Dean’s dick. He didn’t want this soft cruelty to end. He didn’t want the withdrawing that would come after. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ shoulders, hips rising to meet Castiel’s thrusts. Castiel’s cock brushed Dean’s prostate, the small gland swelling with his arousal. Castiel’s hand drove him further to completion, his shaft rubbed up and down in the heat of Castiel’s grip.

Somewhere nearby on the road, cars passed without slowing. Somewhere Sam would be going to bed after a dangerous but successful hunt. Somewhere there would be another battle to fight and the threat of losing each other but those moments in the dark and the place that most spoke of ‘home’ to Dean was theirs.

When Dean came it was almost a surprise, no violent explosion of an orgasm but a wave that curled over him and spilled from his groin outwards. It was a gasped, “Cas...” A sigh, a cut off confession. Castiel pushed in one last time, spilling into Dean with a groan of satisfaction. His hands stroked softly over Dean’s body, sliding free with reluctance. Dean’s arms held the angel in place and for long seconds they lay on the back seat, bodies pressed together and growing sticky and cool.

Later, they used the wipes to clean up and redressed and drove. Their hands stayed tangled and the places in Dean that hurt to be loved so kindly were soothed by the steady presence of Castiel next to him. Castiel would look over at him and smile, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. Maybe Dean would be angry at some point, that the asked for pain hadn’t been given. That instead of punishment for recklessness there was only butterfly-kiss-forgiveness and a tongue that refused to cut. The soreness in his body would remind him not of brutality, but of communion.


End file.
